Reverse Psychology
by Tinuviel Rose
Summary: Lisbon is tired of the mixed signals she gets from Jane, and comes up a devious plan to get him closer. Hint of Jane/Lisbon, nothing explicit.


**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, I'm just a poor obsessed fan.**

**Summary:**

**Lisbon is tired of the mixed signals she is getting from Jane, and comes up a devious plan. Hint of Jane/Lisbon, nothing explicit.**

* * *

Teresa Lisbon was a Woman with a Plan. It was the kind of plan she would never talk about; or admit to anyone. She avoided even admitting it to herself. It was both embarrassing and a little unscrupulous. But her need was stronger than her misgivings.

Teresa wore a figure-hugging black singlet and grey three-quarter exercise pants. She strode down the line of weights and exercise machines, her black ponytail bobbing as she searched for a particular machine. There were other people using the weights equipment, mostly men. Occasional grunts of exertion could be heard over the background music.

Teresa found the machine she was looking for. It wasn't an exercise she normally did, but the agent was no weakling so she adjusted the weight to a fairly ambitious level. Teresa sat down and attempted to lift the bar above her head. It refused to budge. She rolled her eyes and moved the weight peg up a notch. That was more like it. Teresa managed eight repetitions before the burning in her arms became overwhelming. This was going to take several gym sessions.

* * *

It was Monday morning and Teresa felt stiff and uncomfortable. As she drove into work she tried lifting and rotating her shoulders but nothing would ease the tightness there. Unfortunately, the pain was a necessary by-product of her plan. She pulled into the CBI car-park and arrived at the door at the same time as agent Cho.

"Good weekend?" Cho asked conversationally as they waited for the elevator.

"Fine thanks, how about you?" Lisbon replied.

"Good, thanks."

If Cho noticed her physical discomfort he didn't remark on it. He was dependable like that, never prying or probing for intimate personal details like that pain-in-the-ass consultant Patrick Jane. Teresa felt comfortable around Cho.

They got off the elevator and headed into the office. Jane was dozing on his leather couch, basking in a patch of early morning sunlight that had managed to sneak through the blinds. He looked peaceful. It was hard to believe the handsome man was responsible for more chaos than all the prisoners in the local penitentiary combined. Not to mention the fact that he also had a serious detrimental effect on Lisbon's personal moral standards.

She ripped her eyes away from Jane and greeted agent Van-Pelt, who was already at her desk working hard. Teresa made herself a strong cup of coffee and retreated to her office. With no active cases, it would be a good day to catch up on paperwork.

* * *

By four o'clock that afternoon Teresa was in serious pain. She tried to lean back in her chair while typing, but it didn't help to ease the burning in her shoulders. She groaned and got up. Time to raid the first aid kit for some ibuprofen.

Jane and Rigsby were standing around the staff kitchen and Teresa noticed Rigsby stuff something quickly in his pocket, with a guilty glance in her direction. They were probably betting on something stupid again. Teresa wasn't in the mood to care.

Patrick Jane watched her carefully and he must have noticed her stiff movements because his smile became a frown of concern.

"What's the matter, Lisbon?" He asked gently. Rigsby looked from Jane to Lisbon and then he showed concern too.

"It's nothing," Teresa waved them away impatiently. "I just have sore shoulders and need some pain killers."

"Sore shoulders? From what?" Rigsby asked innocently.

Teresa mumbled something about a new workout routine combined with long hours spent hunched over a computer. It was the truth, after all. She reached for the first aid cupboard and pulled out the ibuprofen.

"I could give you the number of my physio-therapist, she's really good," Rigsby offered helpfully.

Jane interrupted him. "Meh, most therapists are bumbling incompetents." He walked up behind Lisbon and put a hand comfortingly on her shoulder. "Let me give you a massage," he said firmly.

Teresa jumped at his touch, which sent a fresh spasm of pain down her back. "Oh, so you do massages now?" She asked waspishly.

"When the situation calls for it. I'm actually very good at several different techniques." Jane replied, not all modestly.

Teresa shrugged his hand off her shoulder. "Thanks, both of you, but I'll be fine."

She took the pills back to her office and tried to ignore the fact that the rest of the team were staring at her.

Later that evening the pain was mostly gone, so Teresa went back to the gym for another workout.

* * *

At 5 AM the next morning, Teresa woke up with stiff, sore shoulders again. Her pillow felt hard as a rock and she couldn't find and position that was comfortable. She started to have serious second thoughts about her plan. It couldn't possibly be worth this much pain.

She gave up on sleeping and went to get out of bed but the moment she tried to lift her head she collapsed in agony. It felt like her neck was on fire. She managed to stagger to the bathroom for more ibuprofen and then lay on the couch and tried not to move for a few hours.

* * *

"Cho." Teresa said when she heard her agent pick up the phone.

"Boss?"

"I'm too sore to come into the office today. I'll work on reports from home but you need to call me if something important comes up."

"Ok boss, will do."

Teresa terminated the call, feeling a bit guilty. She very rarely took sick days, and wouldn't have stayed home today if there was a current investigation going on. But at least she could still work on reports. She hadn't changed out of her dark blue satin pyjamas, that would be too much effort in her current condition. She piled up pillows at the head of the bed and then leaned back on them. She put her laptop on a breakfast tray that tilted at just the right angle so she could type and view the screen without lifting her head.

* * *

The doorbell rang rudely, interrupting Teresa's concentration. She knew who it was, of course. Only one person would come around without calling first. She groaned, moved the laptop out of the way and began the painful task of lifting her head off the pillows.

The doorbell rang again, insistently. "I'm coming already," she grumbled.

Teresa opened the door and there stood Patrick Jane, smiling cheerfully. He had one hand in his suit pocket and the other hand held a brown paper bag.

"Why are you here, Jane?"

"I just wanted to see how you were. I have muffins." He held up the paper bag.

Teresa suddenly realised she was starving and there wasn't anything appealing in her kitchen. She accepted the muffins gratefully and Jane followed her inside.

"Nice pyjamas, by the way," Jane observed slyly.

"Jane.." Teresa growled with a mouth full of muffin.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself," Patrick grinned, holding up his hands apologetically. "The pain is a lot worse today, isn't it?"

Teresa was caught off-guard, and nodded, feeling suddenly ashamed. Patrick noticed her shame but luckily he misinterpreted the reason for it.

"Don't worry, Lisbon. Nobody thinks you're weak. You need to take it easy for a while and let it get better."

Teresa nodded and swallowed the last of the muffin. He was right, she wouldn't be much use as an agent if she couldn't even get out of bed.

"You should really let me give you that massage," Patrick insisted.

"A massage – from you? I don't think so!" Lisbon pushed him away, but not too hard. This was the critical part of the plan. If he knew that she desperately wanted his hands on her body, he would retreat out of guilt and self-loathing. But when she acted like she _didn't _want him then he was compelled to try and get under her skin, teasing and embarrassing her at every opportunity. Teresa didn't have to try too hard to act irritated. He was rather insufferable most of time.

"Come on, Lisbon. You'll feel a lot better," Patrick coaxed her. "Look, I even have some anti-inflammatory gel." He held up a small plastic jar.

"It probably wouldn't even work," Teresa mumbled.

Patrick must have sensed he had already won the argument. "Lie down and I'll show you."

"Alright," she relented, turning towards the couch.

"No, that's not big enough. It needs to be on the bed."

Teresa looked at him suspiciously. "Bed – _now,_" he instructed firmly. "Look, I won't do anything inappropriate I promise."

She rolled her eyes and led him down the hall to the bedroom. Patrick glanced around the room, smiling slightly. Teresa was glad she didn't have anything potentially embarrassing lying around. Although that was a difficult call, since almost anything could be a source of embarrassment when Jane was around.

Patrick took off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He opened the jar of gel and Teresa immediately smelled a pungent peppermint aroma. "You'll want to take that top off," he said casually.

"What? No way!" Teresa blushed in indignation.

"Do you want this stuff all over it?" Patrick asked, holding up a gob of clear gel. "Look, I'll turn around. You take the top off and lie across the end of the bed with a pillow under your stomach." He diligently turned around.

Teresa paused but then did as he asked. At least she could keep her bra on. She had to turn her head to get the top off and barely suppressed a whimper when it caused considerable pain.

"Ready," she informed him after arranging herself on the bed.

Patrick arranged more pillows so her head was supported then she felt the bed dip down as he leaned in. Teresa was painfully aware of the intimacy of their situation, and her whole body tensed. She had willingly got herself into this situation but was now afraid of the possible consequences.

The smell of peppermint became stronger as Patrick warmed the gel on his hands. The first touch, when it came, was so light and unexpectedly warm that she didn't even flinch. He spread the gel on her shoulders and probed gently.

"So tense," he said softly. "You always push yourself too hard."

Teresa just grunted non-committally. His hands felt so good on her back and the gel was having a pleasant cooling effect. He applied more pressure and started kneading the damaged muscles. Teresa felt her whole body slowly relax and she barely even noticed when he unhooked her bra to get the strap out of the way.

Teresa felt like she was floating away on a cloud and had no idea how much time past. Eventually Patrick's touch became lighter, more of a caress than a kneading sensation. Her relaxed state, combined with lack of sleep, caused her to drift off into unconsciousness.

* * *

When Teresa woke up, she was still lying sideways across the bed. Patrick was gone and there was a soft blanket covering her. It was late morning, judging by the angle of sunlight on the wall. She felt annoyed with herself for falling asleep. She vaguely remembered Patrick kissing the back of her neck and whispering "sweet dreams" before he left. Or maybe that was just a dream. Teresa had been having a lot of dreams about her consultant recently.

She lifted her head experimentally. It was still a bit sore, but a lot better than it had been. Muscle injuries took a while to heal. She could probably squeeze a couple more massages out of Jane if she played her cards right.

Her mind drifted and she wondered what else she could injure that would require a massage. A pulled hamstring perhaps? That could be interesting. It was unscrupulous she knew, but that was only fair considering the kind of tricks Jane pulled on her.

* * *

**Afterword:**

I got this idea from personal experience of a neck injury. It came on gradually but became so painful I couldn't move my head in any direction and I spent two days in bed. I thought it was from bad posture and long hours at the computer but the osteopath informed me it was most likely from weight training, specifically the kind where you raise weights above your head. So I cut out the offending exercise and it got better. For physical therapy I received neck and shoulder massages with some kind of oil that smelled like peppermint. Unfortunately my physical therapist looked nothing like Patrick Jane. Sigh.


End file.
